


Now or Never

by riveriver



Series: Now and Forever [2]
Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Anti-Imprint, Anti-Imprinting, Blackwater, Friendship/Love, Imprinting (Twilight), still a slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:40:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26545363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riveriver/pseuds/riveriver
Summary: Sequel to Now and Then. He wants to be in control of his own life; she wants everyone to leave them the hell alone. But in order for Jacob and Leah to get what they want, they must first face the consequences of what they have done. (AU series wherein Leah stays with Jacob while he refuses to give himself up to the imprint. On hiatus.)
Relationships: Jacob Black/Leah Clearwater
Series: Now and Forever [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1930327
Comments: 4
Kudos: 58





	1. Preface

_But free will is what it means to be human, and no one can determine the path you take through this universe. Choice is our greatest right, our greatest gift ― and our greatest responsibility._

_―_ _**Amie Kaufman, "Their Fractured Light"** _

* * *

_But there was a difference between being stuck and choosing to stay. Between being found and finding yourself._

_― **Martina Boone, "Compulsion"**_

* * *

**Preface**

If this was the end, she didn't mind.

Well, she did. Things were finally worth living for again. But to go out in a blaze of glory with her Alpha and her best friend, defending his choice until she breathed her last — that was something which agreed with both parts of her: the woman and the wolf. Parts of her which, until now, she'd always counted as separate entities and had, at times, struggled to keep apart to stop them from obliterating the other. Now they were finally, finally at peace with one another and stood together, side-by-side, all the more stronger for it.

If this was the end, they would go together — all of them. They would fight for life, for the Pack, their family and their lands. And they would not go down so easily. Not like they expected them to.

She could see it in their eyes: the moves they'd already planned to make, the victory they had already claimed here. But it would be a hard-fought win.

If this was the end, she would be the one to make sure of that. She had already made her vows.

Her Alpha pressed his side against hers. Across their bond, he whispered his love to her and their brothers, giving the last pieces of himself to each and every one of them. And it was to her he handed his heart, for it had been hers to guard for all these months anyway, and he told her not to forget.

She would not forget. She would never forget, even when the darkness took them as it was bound to.

She would not forget any of it.

She was ready.

When Jacob gave the order, his Pack leapt as one.


	2. One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shock — yes, I really am going to write in past tense. I read my fics back and realised with a slow sort of horror that I rely on 'says' too much, so have set a new challenge. Let me know if it works, if it doesn't, what you like and don't. I will try and keep the drabby feel that Now and Then had, though I might not succeed going by this first chapter.
> 
> Between Who You Are will continue. I decided that a global lockdown has presented no better time than to write two fics exploring the same themes from opposite ends of the field. This could go very right . . . or very wrong.
> 
> Love you all, as always. Let's go.

_"Ready to tell them all about what a bad influence I am?" Leah asks, bracing herself. It's not only the Council who are waiting for them. Sam is, too._

_"You're a saint compared to me lately." Jacob squeezes her fingers, drawing her eyes to him. His face softens. "You don't have to be here, you know."_

_"Yes," she says resolutely, "I do. Anyway, where would I go? Bit late to start leaving you now."_

_Leah smiles at him, bright and whole with that wonderful, wicked humour in her brown eyes. Jacob doesn't know what he's done to deserve such loyalty, such faith in him. She really would follow him anywhere._

_He will love her his whole life._

_"I'm never going to get rid of you, am I?"_

_"Do you mind?"_

_"No."_

_— **Now and Then, Epilogue: "Next (Jacob and Leah)"**_

* * *

_No one ever got my soul right like she could._

**_Dermot Kennedy, "Dancing Under Red Skies"_ **

* * *

Old Quil had been yelling for . . . seven minutes now, by Jacob's estimation. The clock in the community centre which had been commandeered by the Council for the afternoon had never worked quite right.

The last time Jacob had stood before them had been much the same: Old Quil yelling, Jacob watching the clock, whilst everyone else averted their eyes. His refusal of their offer to step up and become the Pack's Alpha and the tribe's true Chief had turned Old Quil a deep shade of purple so rich that even Billy Black had moved his chair away.

Seven minutes ago Jacob had told them that he refused to step _down_ as an Alpha, and Old Quil had suddenly looked fit to burst once again.

Under the guise of shifting on his feet and scratching the back of his neck, Jacob snuck yet another glance at his second-in-command, and best friend in the whole world, and let loose a tiny smile. It was instantly returned as she allowed her mask of boredom and complete disinterest to slip for a moment and grinned back at him, wide and brazen. She could have been mistaken for laughing at his apparent stance of discomfort under Old Quil's reprimanding, though she knew as well as he did that not a single person or wolf in the room was paying her any attention from where she stood with her arms crossed and back to the wall.

Leah threw him a quick wink before her eyes darkened again and her mask snapped back into place, a stunning picture of nonchalance. She lifted her chin slightly towards the table he stood before. _Focus, now_ , she seemed to say. _You're being given the telling-off of your lifetime. Make it good._

Jacob obediently looked away. He had been granting himself a glance at her every now and then, but only for a second or two at a time; he knew if his gaze lingered too long then he would laugh, and she knew it too. That facade of boredom and disinterest was for his benefit only. The rest of it — the hint of disgust at having to breathe the same air as those who'd never had her back, the contempt for Sam, the defiance . . . that was all hers alone.

He couldn't laugh. He couldn't. He was in enough trouble as it was, no thanks to the Cullens and — well, just the Cullens. They had always been at the root of any issue put on the Council's table to debate.

Or rather, Old Quil to rave over. Bella and her bloodsuckers had left two weeks ago, taking Renesmee with them, and, though the old man and the Council may have celebrated with the rest of the tribe, they were still in disbelief that Jacob had been the one to order them away — his imprint included.

It was unheard of, what Jacob had done. He had continued to leave shocked faces in his wake since that first despicable act of abandoning his Pack in their hour of need, and it was clear that they were still loathed to forgive him — even if it had been months ago now. But, he supposed, after he'd unwittingly created a new Pack of his own and his wolves had vowed to stand with him against all odds in attempt to protect Bella's child, only for their new Alpha to then _imprint_ on that child and reject her in the same breath, the Council had been screaming its outrage since. Even his own father who sat upon it was still struggling with his disappointment, and Billy was by no means excluded from Jacob's suspicions that the Council would likely rather be seen to shake Carlisle Cullen's hand before they forgave such insults.

All except for Sue, maybe. Although Jacob had taken her only daughter away as far as Florida to prove freewill was something that still existed, Sue Clearwater seemed happy that Leah was happy. In fact, the woman looked as if she'd rather had enough of Old Quil and preferred they all be left to get on with their own lives now that the tribe was whole again.

Beside her, Sam Uley didn't seem too unapologetic about being the one who had summoned Jacob and Leah back to La Push under the pretence of all-out war. But he did look uncomfortable, and Jacob knew without asking that it was because Sam was trying as hard as he was to not kill off the competition. There was a reason there couldn't be two Alphas in one territory; their instincts demanded they fight. And Jacob was _dying_ to rip his teeth into Sam's hide.

Today was the first time they had been within touching distance of each other since the Packs split, but Jacob supposed he'd have to get used to it if neither of them were willing to step down. That was, of course, if Leah didn't beat him to the punch and drew blood out of Sam first. Jacob knew that she'd noticed Sam had been doing his best to keep his eyes off her, too, though likely not for the same reasons as he was.

The two Alphas stared at each other, firm, unyielding, their skin burning as Old Quil continued to rant at the top of his lungs.

"—unheard of! There have never been two Packs before. It—"

"Never have this many sons phased before," Billy countered.

Leah cleared her throat, and when everyone in the room turned to her she held a hand to her chest and feigned a look of confusion. "What?" she asked them all innocently. "It's dusty in here."

Jacob was the first to avert his eyes. No smiling. No laughing.

"It is," she protested. "It's disgusting."

While Sue glared at her daughter, Old Quil's sigh was one of exasperation. "Sons or . . . daughters," he added begrudgingly, because the elder had never quite gotten over that particular shock and likely never would. "It doesn't matter. We can't possibly have two Alphas. Division like this simply begs for disaster."

Jacob straightened his back. "Maybe—" he began to say, because he hadn't said anything for nearly ten minutes and thought perhaps he should make _some_ kind of effort. He felt the whole room tense. "Maybe that makes us stronger."

Old Quil shook it off quickly and scoffed. "With one Pack of eight and another of just two? No. We need only one Pack. _One_ Alpha. _One_ true Chief." He looked meaningfully at Sam, and then dubiously at Jacob. "Someone," he said pointedly, "who does not shy from his responsibilities."

Leah bristled in the corner of Jacob's eye.

"We are all on this Council," Billy said, "and yet you sound like you've made your mind up for us already."

Old Quil sat back in his chair and raised a white eyebrow. "What would you rather? A tribe with split loyalties? One protecting the Cold Ones, and another doing their duty?"

"Now wait a minute—"

Old Quil cut across Billy Black. "No. That _boy_ ," he spat, jabbing a withered finger at Jacob, "shirks his heritage at _every_ opportunity. He refused his birthright. Now he refuses his imprint! What next? I will not allow such . . . _cowardice_ at the head of my people!"

From the far side of the wall, Leah's snarl was inhuman, deep and without end. It reverberated off the walls, crawling over Jacob's skin and settling deep in his bones. His Second's unwavering loyalty had her about five seconds away from phasing and ripping out the throat of the Council's figurehead, and though Jacob was inclined to let her have her heart's desire, he raised his hand.

"Hold it, Leah."

She deliberately waited for the echo of her death threat to fade into silence before she cocked her head and blinked at him. "For how long?" she asked sweetly, ignoring her pale audience.

Jacob willed the smile which threatened to splay over his lips into something like indifference. "Let everyone have their say."

She flicked her eyes at Sam and back. "And what if I don't like what they have to say?"

"You are not part of this Council, young lady," Old Quil snapped spitefully. "You'll do well to remember that."

Both Jacob and Leah turned on him, but it was Jacob who spoke first. His voice was unwavering, cold, resolute. "She's my Second, and she has as much right to be here as I do. She's more than earned her place, but you wouldn't know that, would you? God knows you've ignored her existence since she joined us."

Old Quil sputtered. "I have done no such—"

"At her first bonfire, you shook her brother's hand and welcomed him. Did you do that for her?"

The room was silent save for Jacob's heart thundering, though he had to admit that even Sue looked as if she were about to commit murder.

"That's what I thought. _Now,_ " he demanded, "will you let someone else talk — or is my dad right? Have you made everyone else's mind up for them?"

"No," Old Quil grumbled quietly. "No decision has been given."

As she settled back against her wall and began to inspect her nails with an abnormally critical eye, Leah's grin was nothing short of smug.

Old Quil didn't speak for a while after that.


	3. Two

_I'll be there to take your hurt, even if I come off worse._

**_Athlete, "Light The Way"_ **

* * *

"He'll never forgive you for that," Leah muttered once the Council had filed out of the run-down community centre and slammed the door behind them.

"That makes us even, then," Jacob said darkly. He would never forgive Old Quil either, not for a number of things. The old man had always put too much stock in the words of his grandfather and the journals which had somehow ended up in his possession all those years ago — journals which, by rights, belonged to the Blacks. Not the Atearas.

Old Quil could keep them. Burn them, bury himself with them, Jacob didn't care. He didn't want nor have need of them; he knew more than the ancient writings could ever teach him, knew more about this world than Old Quil ever would. They would be an entertaining, insightful bedtime read, perhaps, an inheritance for Ephraim's great-grandson and the true Alpha if nothing else. But he would not learn anything.

No — it was the arrogance Jacob would not forgive. It was the constant insult to Leah, the taunting jibes and the snide remarks — when he deigned to acknowledge her existence, of course. It was the way the elder carried himself as if he were superior to even Billy Black himself, if only because it was he who had first realised what had happened to Sam and had taken it upon himself to impart all the wisdom he had to offer.

Sam had taken it just as seriously, too, before he'd learned that wisdom had sometimes been wrong.

"He shouldn't have spoken to you like that."

"He shouldn't have spoken to _you_ like that," Leah retorted, the ghost of her snarl still looming. "Would it be too much to hope that he doesn't turn up next time?"

"Who says _we're_ going to turn up next time?"

After two hours of debate, the Council still hadn't come to a decision about what to do with the two Packs whose Alphas' instincts had them vying for dominance. And though Leah's mother had been weighing heavily in his own Pack's favour, Jacob still had his father, Old Quil and Sam to contend with — even if Sam had barely uttered a single word throughout the whole meeting and Billy had done nothing but sit on the fence.

Jacob wasn't sure what their obvious hesitancy meant yet, or even if he'd care to ever find out. He needed to do what was best for him and Leah, for _his_ Pack. Not Sam's.

"I don't know about you," he added after that particular thought, "but I've got better things to do."

The light in Leah's eyes danced dangerously. The world was usually about to burn (or in danger of it, at least) when she looked like that. "Maybe you should nominate a spokesperson."

Jacob nodded. "Good idea — I'll call Doctor Fang," he said, and then laughed at the outrage upon his Second's face. "Joking!"

"Mm-hm. I'll remember that," she told him, wholly unimpressed. "The next time you need help—"

"I don't need _help_ —"

"—I'll leave you to it and then we'll _really_ be in for it. They'll vote to have you fight to the death. Then when you lose I'll have to be Alpha—"

"I wouldn't _lose_ —"

"—or I'll end up back in Sam's Pack—"

Jacob's eyes bulged. "You'd _never—"_

Leah snorted, holding in her laughter. " _Joking_ ," she mocked. And then, underneath his glare, she rolled her eyes and said, "Oh, get over yourself. You deserved that."

"I hate you."

"No, you don't." She was slightly triumphant about that as she linked her arm with his and forced him into step with her. "I'm so awesome that sometimes I can hardly stand myself. However do you manage it?"

"Putting up with you? Easy. I know I have the power to make you shut the hell up."

Leah grinned brilliantly. "But you wouldn't."

Jacob grumbled as she pulled him along. He dragged his feet the whole way, still slightly stung at the mere idea of Sam taking her back into his Pack — even if it had been in jest. But Washington's crisp November air was a welcome change from the stale smell of the antiquated rooms in the centre where they'd suffocated for two hours (Leah had not been wrong — it was dusty), and it cleared his head somewhat as they stepped outside.

"You're in a really good mood today."

"You handing Mr. Ateara's ass to him will do that to a girl," she said with that shit-eating grin of hers. When she looked up at him, though, her smile dropped a fraction and dipped into something even Jacob struggled to decipher. "That month after first phasing . . . it's really hazy. I didn't even think — you know, about him shaking Seth's hand and not mine."

Jacob wasn't surprised. He could barely remember his first month either. It was all burning and rage and burning and crying and burning. But, just after he'd started to pull himself back together, he'd known even then that he would never forget how people had treated Leah during her first few weeks — how _he_ himself had treated her at times. She may have gone out of her way to make their lives as difficult as possible, but it had only been because she'd been fruitlessly trying to cover up how she really felt, deep down. Jacob understood that now more than ever before.

"Just stupid prejudice. We all noticed," he mumbled dismissively with a shrug.

"I don't think so," she said thoughtfully, the crease in her brows softening further as she stared up at him still. "Just you, maybe."

He turned his head back to the road which stretched out before them. Maybe he had been, he thought, but he would have liked to believe otherwise — that others had cared, like he cared and would have noticed just the same if it had been Rachel and Rebecca being treated like shit _._ Just because they were girls did not make them _less._ Hell, when it had really come down to it, Leah had fought harder than anyone else just so her little brother could be kept away from the hard stuff. She had never been _less_ , no matter what Old Quil might have thought. What he still thought _._

"I really was joking, you know that right?" Leah asked as they began to walk again. She matched her strides with his. "I didn't mean it. About going back to Sam."

Jacob bumped her shoulder. "I know."

As if he'd let her.

"Good." She squeezed his arm. "I'd kill Sam before he killed you, anyway, so it'd never happen."

Her tone was light despite what she was promising, though Jacob knew she meant every word. Still, he scoffed at it. "Why are you so convinced I'll lose?"

"We're talking hypothetically, of course."

"Of course."

"Because," she said decisively, "you wouldn't be able to kill him. Not for something you don't care about — like being Alpha. If it really came down to fighting, just over that, you'd sooner stop phasing for good than lead seven wolves who hate you."

How well she knew him. Not the wolf, not the Alpha — she knew _him_. He swallowed the sudden emotion bubbling inside of him and pulled his arm from her grip so he could drape it over her shoulders. She didn't seem to think about it as hers snaked along his back and wrapped itself around his waist.

"Seven, huh? What happened to the other two?"

"Sam would be dead, obviously, after my great victory. And I don't hate you, do I? _Duh_ — seven. Though I would if you made someone else Second after I just killed Sam for you. Maybe I'll take you down next."

Jacob couldn't help his smile. Leah was enjoying this far, far too much. "Hypothetically," he reminded her.

Leah didn't bother putting on a show of innocence. They both knew what kind of violence towards Sam she was vividly imagining herself enact in her head, and exactly just how much fun she was having with it. "Sure, Jake," she snorted. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."


	4. Three

_I'm pretty sure it would kill me if you didn't know the pieces of me are pieces of you._

**_Ben Platt, "In Case You Don't Live Forever"_ **

* * *

It wasn't a secret that Jacob Black was in love with Leah Clearwater.

Her mom knew, which meant Charlie Swan knew, and Jacob was about ninety-eight percent certain that his dad had figured it out, too.

Seth definitely knew. Granted, the little punk still wasn't talking to him (and neither was Embry for that matter; they were still pissed at him for sending them back to Sam's Pack) but he was a wolf; he could try to pretend otherwise, but his sharp lupine senses made it hard to escape being able to see and scent and hear everything — including his sister and his former Alpha shuffling around in her bedroom as they had been for two weeks now. He _definitely_ knew.

And that meant that all of Sam's Pack and the imprints knew, too.

It seemed there were only a few people left who remained oblivious: Rebecca, who hadn't called home since August, and, as absurd as it was . . . Leah.

Okay, maybe it _was_ absurd — she couldn't be _entirely_ oblivious, just as he was not oblivious to how much she loved him. They were Pack, he was its Alpha, and he felt her emotions as keenly as he felt his own. Her joy, his joy. Her pain, his pain. He could taste her moods on his tongue, taste it through her maddening scent of summer rain and warm amber, the air before that first crack of thunder. There was just no way that Leah didn't know.

There couldn't be.

Sure, he might not have said the words, might not have given any conscious hints that he wanted to claim her feral smiles for his own, but it had been seventy-eight days since she'd joined his Pack and seventy-six days since he'd imprinted; they'd spent thirty-six days chasing state lines together and forty-one sleeping in the same bed. She was his Pack's keystone, its heart and the blood which pumped through its veins. She was the glue, the backbone, and the _only_ reason he had not surrendered to his imprint.

Not because he loved her, or because that love extended far, far beyond anything he'd ever felt for Bella, but because Leah believed in him so fiercely that it gave him the strength to be able to hold on and remember what it was to be human, to be able to remember the differences between chosen-love and imprint-love. To be able to push away that compelling sense of obligation and destiny which did nothing but _pull_ at him, begging him to submit.

(He'd told the Cullens to leave, yes, but it had cost him. He'd thrown up until there had been nothing left, until his knees had given out. And though the bloodsuckers had obeyed, it did not mean that the imprint was broken. Jacob feared that he would carry that part of them — of _her_ — for the rest of his life.)

Leah's pull was different. Natural. She had always given him more than he rightly deserved, and it was so rare she asked for anything in return that when she did Jacob could not bring himself to say no.

It was after the Council meeting she finally begged if they could do something normal, something which did not involve monsters and magic and predetermined fates. Something that could be _Jacob and Leah_ and not _Alpha and Second._

Jacob did not refuse her. He understood what she was asking.

In the two weeks since they'd returned to the reservation they had been forced to live on tenterhooks — waiting, watching, pretending as if the tribe was not at odds with them — and it made them both more antsy than usual, particularly because they were unable to phase and burn off their building energy without starting a fight with Sam's Pack. Until either the Council made their decision or Sam yielded, they had no lands of their own to patrol, nowhere to run and nothing to protect. But it was in their blood to do so, and their instincts demanded more of them. They were struggling to keep their wolves leashed — Leah especially.

The Council meeting had proved that.

She needed an escape, a reprieve. So Jacob had no second thoughts about throwing her the keys to the Rabbit. He sat in its passenger seat for the first time in his life, and told her to take them wherever she pleased.

(He did not let just _anyone_ commandeer his beloved car, and if that did not make her realise how he felt then she'd probably never know.)

Her brilliant smile as she hit the gas was totally worth it.

* * *

They must have looked strange, he thought, sitting by the waterfront with their legs hanging over the edge of the docks in nothing but their shorts and t-shirts. It was nearly December, after all, and the few people milling around nearby were bundled up tightly in their thick coats and scarves.

Leah leaned back on her palms and ignored them. "What will we do if they ask us to stop phasing?"

"What happened to an afternoon of pretending to be normal?"

"This is normal," she said, supporting her weight with one hand as she waved around them with the other pointedly. "We've wasted gas to drive fifty-something miles and do nothing but hang out. We can go and get a milkshake or something if you want. You're paying, though." She flashed him a smile.

Jacob rolled his eyes. "Fine. Strawberry or chocolate?"

Leah pursed her lips so thoughtfully that Jacob had to look away. Those lips had been taunting him, goading him for weeks now, and it had only gotten worse since she had pressed them so lightly against his cheek in the confines of her room the night before they had been confronted by Cullen at the riverbank — before he'd given them one week to leave Washington. But despite the way Jacob felt for her and how he knew Leah felt about him, it was a line they hadn't crossed.

No matter how blurred that line was.

"That's one of those deal-breaker questions, isn't it?" she eventually asked. "Like you say chocolate and I say banana and we just can't compromise."

"Banana?" Jacob pulled a face at her, and she mimicked him perfectly until they were both grinning. "I don't think it matters. We got over things like that when I found out you need to listen to country music at least once every day otherwise you'll start pulling your hair out."

Leah threw her head back and laughed so loudly that the gulls took to the skies in panic. "I do not!" She pushed at his shoulder. "Not every day, anyway."

If being forced to listen to her belting Sheryl Crow from one end of the country to another was anything to go by, then Jacob begged to differ. But still he smiled.

"See," she said, pushing at him good-naturedly again. "This is normal. I know it's only Port Angeles, but it's different, y'know? It's good to have a change of scenery for a bit. We've been cooped up too long."

Far longer than they had become used to, anyway, Jacob thought. After over a month of driving through different cities and towns, La Push seemed so ridiculously slow in comparison. It had never bothered him before, but these last two weeks had felt almost painful with so little to fill their time.

"We'll do it more often," he promised.

But she wasn't as pleased as he thought she would be.

"You mean when we're not allowed to phase anymore?" she challenged.

He sighed. Leah always got what she wanted in the end — including answers to her questions. He stretched his legs out over the edge of the dock and considered his answer as she shuffled closer to him.

"I don't know," he said finally. Her heat was distracting. "What if that's their answer to this?"

"I've never been good at being told what to do. If I'm going to quit then it'll be when I'm good and ready, not because I've been given an ultimatum." She seemed to think nothing of it as she twisted her fingers through his and held tightly as she spoke — it was so natural, so easy between them, after all. With all they had been through, intimacy like it had almost become essential for them. "Join Sam's Pack or get used to life on two legs again — that's what they'll say."

"You remember when you joined me and Seth?" he asked quietly. "You asked to stay. And you said that you were planning to quit as soon as you were able." He met her eyes. "What if that's now? Would it be so bad?"

Leah shrugged, attempting to look for all the world as if she didn't care. "Things change. You're not ready to stop, so . . ." She let her words unspoken settle as she trailed off and turned towards the water, and Jacob understood the suggestion for what it was: there was no way she was going to quit if it meant leaving him behind, just as he had learned to not leave her behind.

"I haven't phased for two weeks," he pointed out, still looking at her.

He saw the corners of her lips twitch as she scanned the grey horizon. "And a miserable two weeks it's been," she muttered, but she squeezed his fingers as she said it as if to tell him that she understood, that it didn't matter.

"I've not been _that_ bad."

Leah snorted. "Sure. If you don't count the time you saw Sam for the first time after we got back—"

"I think that was you."

"—and then when Embry ignored you at the store . . ."

"Also you."

". . . and what about when you overheard Seth telling Mom that Paul was thinking about proposing to Rachel?"

"Okay. Maybe that was me," he admitted, and Leah smiled. It was slightly sad, though, because although the back-and-forth between them was easy, she had made her point.

"We're not ready," she said. "And they're not going to accept that. There's no in-between, Jake. They won't compromise; it's _their_ deal-breaker." She chewed her lip for a second, and then loosed a long breath. "So I think . . . I think you — _we_ need to talk to Sam. About territory and . . . things."

He knew she was right; he had been deliberating the same thing for nearly two weeks, as soon as he had been reminded that being in the same vicinity as the other Alpha made his hairs stand up on end. Since they had been called before the Council to be told the same thing.

"Yeah. I think so too."

Jacob freed his fingers and huffed as he got to his feet.

Leah stared up at him, looking slightly nervous — as much as Leah Clearwater ever allowed herself to be, anyway. "I didn't mean _now_ , Jacob."

"I know."

He held out his hand, and she automatically reached for it and let him haul her to her feet. "So where are we going?"

"Do you want that milkshake or not?"

"Are you buying?"

"Apparently."

"Then I want two," she told him. "And food."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah — can I drive home?"

"Do I have a choice?" he asked.

And Leah, damn her, dared to pretend she gave it some serious thought before she said, "No," and pulled him all the way to the nearest diner.


	5. Four

_There's no place to call our own. Like a drifting haze we roam._

**_Ruelle, "Where Do We Go From Here?"_ **

* * *

It wasn't a secret that Leah Clearwater was in love with Jacob Black.

But while the whole world and his wife might have long since figured it out (at least, the tribe and its Pack had), they also knew that Jacob had imprinted. It made it hard for them to believe that Leah wasn't going to end up as badly burned as she had been before.

Nobody had said this to her face, of course. She had caused too much damage with her pain and anger and her bitterness after Sam — well, just _after Sam_ ; what had happened was defined so easily with those two words _._ And now, _after Sam_ , there were very few people left brave enough to be honest with her.

Leah saw what they wanted to say in their eyes instead. She had learned to see what they were too cowardly to voice. And she had learned that people didn't understand what she felt for Jacob — they just _couldn't_ , and she didn't expect them to be able to. Hell, she hardly understood it herself most days. That she had chosen Sam before he had imprinted, whilst she had chosen Jacob _after_ he had imprinted . . . What kind of a person would set themselves up for failure like that?

Except that Leah didn't believe it. Jacob was not going to fail.

He was everything Sam Uley was not (thank _God_ ); he was brave and strong and loyal (if a little self-sacrificing and unsure of himself at times, but that's what she was there for, wasn't she?). And while Sam valued tradition and duty and honour to the point that he'd lost the best part of himself, Jacob valued freedom and integrity and _choice._

Sam hadn't tried to fight the imprint. Jacob, however, was. He was using every shred of the unique willpower only he possessed.

Because that's exactly what it was — unique.

And he was going to do it. He was going to succeed.

Leah had spent months hating Sam for it — why was it that Jacob could refuse Renesmee when Sam hadn't been able to refuse Emily? — but she understood now: Sam wouldn't have been able to do what Jacob had done, what he _was_ doing, because Sam was not supposed to be Alpha.

Sam might have had an Alpha's strength, but that kind of strength was no different to the strength she or any second-in-command was automatically gifted when assuming the position. Strength like Jacob's could only be inherited — strength from the son and grandson and great-grandson of a Chief.

A true Chief. That's what Ephraim Black had been, what Jacob now was. Even if he hardly believed it himself.

Things had become easier for him now that he had sent Renesmee away, ordering her and her tick family to the other ends of the earth. It was easier now that he wasn't plagued with headaches anymore — the kind that almost crippled him when the monster tugged on that awful bond of theirs and left him digging his fingers into Leah's skin in fear of giving up. And it was easier that he was living on his own land again, because it technically belonged to him anyway and because he drew his strength from it (even if Sam's Pack had refused to surrender any territory — they were still working on that part).

Leah would not have championed Jacob had he been any less. He was the rightful Alpha, the rightful Chief, and he made her nothing short of proud to be his Second.

Her first thought in joining him might have been about the escape he'd provided in disowning Sam's Pack, but she'd meant what she'd said to him all those months ago. He was worth following.

He had since proved to be much more than that. More than Sam had ever been.

Leah wiped Sam's stain off her mind as her legs tangled with Jake's underneath the sheets. They shuffled around each other, settling down for the night, long past the pretence of starting off in separate beds — for weeks now they had only ever ended up next to each other by morning.

This was as much routine now as patrols once were. They would talk some, as usual, and then Jacob would sleep, and she would keep vigil for most of the night until she was sure that he was not in danger of going anywhere. Until he was so deeply asleep that not even his subconscious could tempt the wolf to go and find his imprint.

"As much as I like your bed," he said into the back of her hair (it was much bigger, much more comfortable than his), "it still makes me uneasy to hear Seth in the next room over."

Leah felt it, too. It was not quite a challenge her little brother presented — not like the one Sam presented Jacob, at least — but it was enough to set her own teeth on edge, knowing there was an . . . _outsider_ so close by. It didn't matter to the wolf inside of her that she was blood-related to Seth — he wasn't pack.

"If you take him back then perhaps it won't be so bad," she replied, though she knew why exactly it was that Jacob kept her little brother and Embry away still.

"Not yet," was all Jacob mumbled, his arm tightening around her waist. "Not yet."

 _Not yet,_ because they had no lands to call their own and because Jacob did not want to share his pain. He had never wanted to lead, and he would rather his friends hated him in another Pack than from within his own, where they would also be able watch him struggle against the imprint.

No. Jacob did not want people thinking him weak.

That, and neither Seth or Embry had yet forgiven him for sending them back to Sam. Not when he had allowed Leah to stay and had travelled the length of the country with her in their defiance, learning each other and what it was to be Pack without them.

"What's worse?" she asked, because she knew that Jacob would be honest with her and because their pack was built upon an understanding to not ask for what the other could not give. "The urge to kick Seth out of the house or the imprint?"

"Imprint," Jake said quietly. "Always the imprint. But it's better — now that they're gone, I can actually . . . _think_ , you know? But that's because I made it that way."

They'd had this conversation before, of course, but Jacob explained it in such a different way each time that sometimes Leah was left with more questions than she'd begun with.

"It got better the further we went," he continued, and this she knew, "but I still wasn't in control. Now I am."

That was the Alpha in him, she thought. The wolf within him, needing to give directives and hold its ground instead of running away.

"What's worse," she asked then, "being on the road, or being home?"

"On the road," he answered immediately. "Though 'home' isn't really . . ." He trailed off, and was silent for a few seconds. "I feel homeless."

"Me, too," she said, understanding. Although she would always have a home with her mother and he would always have a home with his father, it wasn't _theirs_. They needed to be together — being apart now, after all they had suffered, was incomprehensible. Which meant they would have to find somewhere together, eventually, a place for their Pack like Emily's house was for Sam's.

She could get a job, she supposed. She, at least, had graduated. He could work on cars around the Rez . . .

"Maybe it will be better when we can agree on some territory," Jacob mused into her hair, sighing deeply in his exhaustion. "Who knows. Maybe it'll always feel like this."

"I hope not."

"Yeah," he said with another sigh. "Me too. I don't really want to have to follow another treaty. This is bad enough."

They turned quiet. His breathing was in danger of lulling her to sleep, but she fought her heavy eyelids as she knew she would for the next few hours. Just in case he were to leave without warning, leaving her stranded. He had done it before, after all — more than once — and though she did not blame him, the fear still lingered.

When she thought he was almost asleep, he nudged the back of her knees with his own. "I gave you two," he said. "Now you give me two."

"What?"

"Thoughts." And then, playfully, he added, "I haven't phased for so long that I've almost forgotten what it's like to have you in my head. Telling me off. Setting me on the straight and narrow."

She snorted, and pushed back at his legs. "Shut up."

Jacob grinned against the side of her neck and held on, waiting for her thoughts. And though she had a feeling she might regret doing so, she said, "Fine. What do you want to know?"

He considered it for a long minute, as if trying to decide best how to phrase what he wanted to say.

"What's worse," he began eventually, "thinking I'll leave, or thinking I'll make us go back to Sam?"

"Going back to Sam." There was no question. "If you left, I'd just hunt your sorry ass down until I found you again," she told him, though she knew he remembered her threat back on the riverbank all those weeks ago. Perhaps that was why he had asked. Perhaps he was as frightened as she was that it would happen — that he would leave and she would not follow.

(There were very few times Leah said things out of anger which she did not mean. She almost always meant what she said, and always followed through. But not this time. _That_ particular threat had been thrown blindly, meant to do nothing but scare him. She wasn't proud of it.)

"Good," was all he answered.

"Next?"

Jacob seemed to chew it over, as if thinking how best to phrase what he really wanted to say, until he finally spoke, voice barely above a whisper. "What's worse — having to talk to Sam again, or me doing it on my own?"

She froze, her breath coming short as she realised what he was asking — what he was really considering. "You are not doing that on your own."

"I know we said we'd do it together, but I really—"

"No. Don't even think about it." She flipped herself over in his arms, fighting to urge to pin him down, to shake his shoulders. Anything which would make him understand that there would be no argument about this. "If you're wanting to spare my feelings, or whatever, forget it. We're Pack."

Where he went, she went. His pain, her pain.

"But . . ."

"You'll kill him, Jake. You'll kill _each other._ And though I don't particularly care whether the asshole lives or dies, I really don't, but you going off and . . . _talking_ to each other when you're already struggling not to phase—" Leah took a deep, steadying breath and closed her eyes. "No."

Leah Clearwater had never been one to beg, but she thought that she might swallow her pride just this once if it meant that Jake and Sam wouldn't go for one another's throats. Not without her there, anyway. Not without someone watching his back.

But Jacob just pulled her impossibly closer before she could, feeling her panic as if it were his own. Her pain, his pain. "Okay. Okay," he murmured, his hand tangling in her head as her face pressed against his chest. "That was stupid of me. I'm sorry."

"Promise me," she mumbled pathetically against his chest. Fuck it. She'd beg — sooner than she would have liked to.

"Sure, sure."

"Say it."

"I promise," he whispered, and he continued to run his hands through her hair, calming her, repeating his promise until his words turned garbled, until his fingers finally stilled and he fell asleep.

Leah didn't close her eyes all night.


	6. Five

_At night the weight of expectation seems to keep me up._

**_Lewis Capaldi, "Maybe"_ **

* * *

It wasn't a secret that Leah Clearwater and Jacob Black were in love with each other.

Not even to Sam Uley.

He'd first realised it when he'd caught Seth brooding during patrol about the light snores he'd heard coming from his sister's bedroom — the kid was still upset over being shunned from Jacob's Pack, but he had been feeling duty-bound to stage the _Hurt My Sister and Die_ talk since he'd learned the Packs were staying separate. And he might have only been fifteen, but Seth understood the kind of Looks he had noticed passing between his sister and Jacob in the days afterwards. He believed those Looks meant something, because they were the same kind his parents used to give one another.

(And Sam had known then, because he remembered that Look. He had been the only other person Leah shared it with.)

The way Seth saw it, the responsibility was left to him now that Harry was dead; he was supposed to be the man of the house, his family's protector. After all, it wasn't exactly as if his mom was going to give Jacob a firm warning — not when she seemed to support them as much as she did.

Sue was _beyond_ thrilled that Leah was smiling again. And Sam knew that, privately, Seth was too. But the kid was conflicted: his resentment over being sent back to his old Pack clouded his joy that his sister and his hero had fallen for one another; he wished to be with them again so badly that Sam could no longer allow him to patrol with Embry in fear that their similar feelings would be amplified across the Pack-mind and have a knock-on effect.

It was important that an Alpha had a stable, well-oiled machine underneath him. The consequences of anything less would be disastrous. What if the Cullens came back, demanding retribution? What if another band of Cold Ones crossed their lands? His Pack needed to be able to function — they couldn't be distracted by their brothers' desires which could bleed into their own so easily.

Just like they couldn't be distracted by his own jealousy.

When Sam had seen it for himself in the Council meeting — the extent of Leah and Jacob's feelings — he had been so . . . _consumed_ by envy that he'd not been able to look Emily in the eye for hours afterwards.

It defied belief how Leah and Jacob had automatically jumped to one another's defence, seemingly without a thought to what they were doing. Once upon a time, they'd barely been able to be in the same room without tearing into each other. Once upon a time, it had been the two of _them_ , not Embry and Seth, who he'd not allowed to patrol together. And suddenly there they were championing one another to their last breath.

Leah and Jacob had never supported _him_ like that. They had abandoned him at their first opportunity, becoming Pack merely out of convenience.

Now they were Pack because they _wanted_ to be. They loved what they had found with each other so fiercely that Jacob point-blank refused to relinquish being Alpha.

Talk about throwing a one-eighty.

Sam could still hear Leah's warning snarl. He could still hear Jacob's words. They had awoken the slumbering, near-dead emotion of jealousy inside of him, because somehow it made all the difference for Leah that Jacob had noticed Old Quil hadn't shaken her hand at her first bonfire but Sam hadn't.

To make matters worse, Emily had known something was off when he'd returned from that Council meeting. But she didn't push, she didn't pry. She never did.

Sometimes Sam wondered whether Emily knew the real reason he couldn't bear to be around Jacob. Not because their wolves demanded they fight — but because Jacob had achieved the impossible by refusing his imprint, while Sam had phased alone and imprinted alone. He hadn't stood a chance of being able to keep Leah. And with only the Council to guide him, he'd had no choice but to place his faith with them and hope they knew what they were doing.

As it turned out, they didn't — not about the _real_ things like leading nine other wolves and patrolling and killing. But it had been too late by then. Old Quil had long since become used to giving direction that even after Sam had established himself as an Alpha, the old man still struggled relinquishing control even now.

If Sam had known that refusing an imprint could be done, he might have tried harder. If it had been Jacob who had phased first and learned all of these things, Sam might have been able to do it.

Maybe. Maybe not. He had the Alpha's strength . . . but even he knew he was not the _true_ Alpha. Perhaps only Ephraim's descendants could do it. Not Levi's.

It was too late to try, anyway. He was marrying Emily. His whole universe was centred around her, her happiness. He existed for her.

And it was for that reason he found himself knocking on the Clearwaters' door before breakfast, though he couldn't help but being relieved that it was Sue who answered the door.

Her brow creased when she saw him. "Sam," she said. "What's wrong?"

In the year and a half or so since Sam had moved in with Emily, he had only come to this house three times since: first when Seth and Leah had phased for the first time, and then again some months later when Seth and Leah had left his Pack. Then, only weeks after that, when he had come to pass on the mind-reader's warning.

Sam understood then why Sue thought that there was something wrong — except this time, her children were actually in the house. The thought had him wondering whether she counted Jake as a son now, too, and he felt his heart begin a wild beat in his chest.

He tried to keep his face neutral. "Nothing. Jake here?"

Sue narrowed her eyes. "I don't want any trouble, Samuel Uley," she warned. "I only just got her back."

"No trouble," he promised as the woman scrutinised him. "I just want to speak with him."

"Mm-hm. Right. Well, not in my house."

He'd expected as much, so he nodded and stepped off the porch. He didn't trust himself to keep his cool, so he could hardly be offended that Sue clearly thought the same. "I'll wait on First Beach for him."

"I'll let them know," Sue replied curtly, and shut the door.

_Them._

That, Sam had also expected.

* * *

It was only half an hour later that he felt the prickling feeling at the back of his neck. Sam had thought that Jacob would have kept him waiting a lot longer, if only to make his point.

As far as Sam was concerned, however, there was nothing left to prove. That was why he was here, after all . . . although, he knew there had been a very real possibility that Jacob might not have bothered to come at all. In which case, Sam would have had to think of something else that wouldn't have resulted in a rip-roaring fight.

(Asking _nicely_ and going to the house had been Emily's suggestion — not his.)

The wolf commanded him to stand straighter as Jake and Leah approached. It had him squaring his shoulders and firming his chin as their eyes fell on him. He could do this. He had to.

"Thanks for coming," he said by way of greeting. "I wasn't sure if you would."

Jacob shrugged, keeping his distance. Leah was rigid but ready at his right side. "We were planning to come and see you soon, anyway," he said over the crashing tide. "You just beat us to it."

His eyes were calm and clear as he spoke, whilst beside him Leah's were hard and fierce. Sam could see her assessing everything, from the quietness of the beach to the threat he posed, planning for each possible outcome she could think of and how she could protect her Alpha best.

She was the perfect Second. Better, even, than Jacob or Paul had ever been.

Sam thought perhaps he should have brought Paul along with him, if their Packs were observing formalities and traditions. But then, Jacob had never been one to observe such things, so maybe it didn't matter so much. That, and Sam didn't really want his Pack knowing what he had planned to do until it was done and an agreement had been made anyway.

His Pack was going to roar at him for what he was about to do. He had been very, very careful to guard his thoughts ever since the Council meeting.

"Right. Well, I'll keep it short and get to the point—" he started, because already he wanted to split his skin, and knew that Jacob felt the same. "Emily's pregnant."

To her credit, Leah didn't so much as flinch. Not that Sam was looking — much. He was doing his very best to keep his eyes on Jacob, to ignore what he saw in the corners of his vision. This was Alpha to Alpha, and nothing to do with his past.

(Except his jealousy had everything to do with his past, and so Leah was hard to ignore. She always had been.)

Jacob only blinked, allowing himself to show his surprise. "Uh — congratulations."

Sam shoved his hands in his pockets, trying but failing to relax his shoulders as Jacob's fingers linked themselves with Leah's. "Thanks."

He remembered then that Emily had wanted him to ask about the wedding, about whether Jake and Leah would still be their guests next month when they finally said their vows. The last responses she'd received said that they would be, but a lot had happened since then.

Sam didn't think that he would go, if he were either of them.

He swallowed Emily's question as Jacob cleared his throat. "Is that it?"

If only, Sam thought.

"No," he said instead. "Now that things are settling down . . . With the Cullens gone, and you home—"

Leah's growl was low and threatening, but Jacob threw out a hand. The sound cut off abruptly, and she snapped to attention.

That easily, Jacob leashed her as Sam had never been able to before.

"With you home," he continued, as if nothing had happened (though he knew what Leah had been protesting; she and Jacob were only here because Sam himself had made it so), "and what happened at the Council meeting, it's about time that I stepped down."

Sam was pretty sure that both Leah and Jacob stopped breathing, but he pressed on. If he didn't say it now, he never would. "Old Quil's right — there can't be two Packs, and as you're so unwilling to give it up . . . Well, I was never supposed to be Alpha, anyway. I always planned to pass it on to you when you eventually joined the Pack. I figure now's as good of a time as any to do that. I'm getting married, Emily's pregnant, and I'm finally at a point where I think I can actually stop. I _need_ to stop. For my family."

Leah paled, her knuckles going white as she gripped Jacob's hand.

"It's not going to be easy," Sam ploughed on. "I don't think I'm going to be able to do it overnight, but if I stop . . . gradually . . . I might be able to stand a chance, knowing that the rightful Alpha is in his place. I don't think I could do it otherwise."

"Why didn't you say anything in the Council meeting?" Leah demanded.

"I want to do this right," Sam explained with an effort to keep his voice steady. "And without an audience."

She scoffed her reply as Jacob turned to the water, his face unreadable. "How long have you been thinking about this?"

"A while," Sam admitted, prepared to explain himself until he was hoarse. "But with a baby on the way . . . _My_ baby, Jacob — I can't risk it. I need them both safe. With the damage I've already caused . . . Can you understand that?"

It was silent save for the tide as Jacob looked around to Leah, his eyes bearing into hers and speaking a language Sam did not understand. They looked at each other for what seemed an eon, their conversation as silent as if they shared a mind even in these forms. It was maddening, but Sam held his tongue. And he waited.

When Jacob finally turned back, his head jerked in an almost imperceptible nod. "Ask the question, Sam."

Sam's hands slipped out his pockets and lay flat at his side as he raised his chin and looked at Jacob in the eye. This was it. And while Jacob might not have observed traditions or formalities, Sam always had and always would.

"Will you take the Pack? My Pack, and make them yours?"

"What happens if I don't?" he asked — not to be difficult, Sam understood, but because he took longer to process and would be thinking from every single angle now that he was an Alpha and finally understood the kind of responsibility that Sam had once been forced to accept.

"Paul will become Alpha, I suppose."

Jacob sighed, and Sam knew that he did not have to say more than that. Paul was a decent Second and had levelled out since imprinting on Rachel, but Alpha? It would only be repeating Sam's mistakes, with deeper consequences which would last years.

"We'll work out the logistics of it, Jake. It'll take some time, but . . . I want to do it right," he said again, "before it gets messy — before people—" ( _people_ being Old Quil, Sam thought with a deal of frustration) "—have any time to start panicking about it. Some of them are thinking of giving it up, too, but they're just too scared to do it." He shrugged. "You might not end up with everyone."

Leah cocked an eyebrow. "Who?"

"Jared, namely. He's been at this for almost as long as I have. He doesn't want Kim to catch up with him."

"Makes sense," Jake admitted, albeit sounding a little begrudging about it. He sighed again. "And what about you?"

"I won't join you. Too messy," he said, and Leah's shoulders dropped a fraction. "The ones who want to stop phasing can stay with me, and we'll work on it together. The others who still need help or who want to carry on, like Quil — they'll go to you."

Jacob scratched the back of his head, blowing a breath. His eyes flickered to Leah. "We'll need to talk about this some more," he said, and Sam knew what he really meant. He wouldn't be a part of whatever discussion Jacob was now thinking about.

"Fine," he grumbled, failing to squash his annoyance. He would have to run to Canada and back before he worked off this steam. Before he could face Emily again, let alone his Pack. "But I want to have it sorted before the next Council meeting."

"I haven't agreed to anything," Jake snapped, and Leah bit back a smile. "But I'll think about it. That's all I'm saying. Get back to you, alright?"

"Fine," Sam said again. "We'll meet here the same time tomorrow."

Jacob bristled at the command, but Sam had made his point: he was still an Alpha, and he would remain so until he saw this through and did what was best for his Pack. Admittedly he needed to get better at asking people questions, better at asking their permission. He had spent so long _ordering_ people into their places . . . Old habits died hard, he supposed. But he would not step down until this had been done right.

Nevertheless . . . "If that's okay with you," he added.

It was a long thirty seconds before Jacob managed to nod. "Sure, sure."

"Right." Sam finally allowed his feet to move. "Well. See you tomorrow, then."

"Tomorrow," Jacob agreed tightly.

Sam left before any blood could be shed. He knew that he would lose, should it come to a fight.

And Jacob knew it, too.


End file.
